


Man Down (or The Shameless Hurt Comfort Fic)

by pooh_collector



Category: White Collar
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pooh_collector/pseuds/pooh_collector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another undercover op goes very bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man Down (or The Shameless Hurt Comfort Fic)

In all his years with the FBI Peter had never seen a takedown go so spectacularly postal before.

Neal had been working undercover in an accounting firm that was suspected of embezzlement. He had managed to download quite a bit of hard evidence from the company’s computer system the previous day, but the AUSA wanted a high profile win so she insisted they get a recorded confession from the firm’s CFO Mel Jenson. 

So Neal went back in wearing a wire. Everything sounded fine through Neal’s earpiece. He charmed his way into a conversation with Jenson that led to the man stating the necessary words on tape. But instead of Neal making a patented Caffrey exit he inexplicably muttered his emergency code phrase. 

Peter tried to stifle the feeling of dread that was welling up in his chest as the team made their way up to the fifth floor offices of Jenson and Brewer. But the incongruity of Jenson’s confession followed immediately by Neal’s call for backup seemed like a very bad sign indeed. 

Two minutes later, Peter, Diana, Jones and a slew of other agents stormed the offices. Neal was standing in the center of the space, his hands splayed wide, three guns trained on his back, with Jenson standing directly behind him effectively making Neal his shield. 

“Peter, nice of you to drop by.” Neal’s voice was smooth, but even across the room Peter could see the fear in his eyes, read the tension in the younger man’s body. 

Things didn’t go well from there at all. Jenson was clearly unhinged and several of his staff were unfortunately a little too dedicated to the corporate philosophy. Peter tried to talk him down, convince him that the best course of action was to put the gun down and turn himself in peacefully. Jenson could still cut a deal. But, despite Peter’s best attempt to bring things to a non-violent end, Jenson clearly had no interest in Peter’s words. Instead he fired twice, directly at Peter.

He heard Neal yell his name in warning as he went down, saw the muzzle flashes as others’ weapons fired over and around him, smelled the stink of the cordite. But everything seemed out of synch, as if time had slowed to crawl. A small eternity passed, then he blinked and the world sped up again and pain slammed him in the chest.

 

***

 

In all of his years running cons Neal had never seen one go so spectacularly postal before.

Everything had seemed fine when he walked through the door that morning. He went to his assigned desk and putzed around for about 40 minutes as if today were any other day in Nick Halden’s nine to five existence. 

When Jenson came out of his office heading toward the coffee machine Neal approached him, his own mug in hand. Jenson seemed relaxed, at ease. Neal saw nothing to indicate that Jenson found out he had hacked the company’s records. Jenson didn’t seem to be suspicious of Neal in any way. The CFO engaged in conversation with Neal easily enough and Neal poked around the edges trying to get Jenson to casually reveal his involvement in the embezzlement schemes.

Then Jenson put his just filled mug back down on the counter, reached underneath the back of his jacket and pulled a sig sauer from his waistband. He positioned it directly at Neal, stabbing him in his tie repeatedly as he continued speaking, spilling the information Neal was looking for as if he hadn’t a care in the world. At that moment Neal had to admit that he had totally misread Jenson. The man wasn’t calm, he was crazy and Neal knew he was in serious trouble. He glanced down briefly at his chest. His blood was definitely going to clash with the tie that was currently being splotched with gun oil. 

When Jenson concluded Neal nodded blankly, his attention still focused on the vision of his own blood staining his seafoam green tie. After a moment he managed to choke out, “Well, how about them apples,” knowing that Peter was paying rapt attention. 

While Jenson guided him to the center of the room with a wave of his gun, Neal noticed Ackerman and Silber pulling handguns from inside their desks and joining Jenson. Then they stood there waiting, weapons trained on Neal’s back, as if they knew that members of the FBI would be banging down their door within moments. 

The wait seemed very long to Neal as he mentally followed a bead of sweat from the base of his hairline, down the back of his neck and the curve of his spine before it was absorbed by the waistband of his boxers. 

And then Peter was there, along with Jones, Diana and about a half dozen other agents. “FBI, drop your weapons,” Peter commanded. Neal breathed a silent sigh of relief; glad to know that his faith in his partner was justified.

“Peter, nice of you to drop by,” he said forcing a casualness into his voice that he certainly did not feel.

Peter gave him a quick glance, assessing his condition, and then focussed his attention on Jenson and his cohorts. 

Neal heard Peter’s words flow over him, soothing and strong. Peter was trying to reason with Jenson, get the man to just put his weapon down and surrender peacefully. Peter’s words eased the tension in Neal’s body, made him feel calmer, more assured. Unfortunately, Neal could tell from the tension he still felt rolling off the CFO’s body that Peter’s words were having no effect on Jenson. 

Neal breathed in deeply, drawing strength from Peter’s voice and then braced himself, knowing what was coming. Standing in the middle of a room literally surrounding by weapons was definitely not the place to be when you weren’t a fan of guns. 

There was an eerie moment like the calm in the eye of a storm when Peter stopped speaking and before Jenson fired his first shots. It felt to Neal like a low level electric current was arcing through the room unseen.

And then all hell literally broke loose, Jenson fired two shots in quick succession. Neal keenly felt the displacement of air as the bullets screamed past him and directly toward his partner.

"Peter!" Neal yelled in warning, his heart slamming against his ribcage. But even as his partner’s name left his lips Neal realized he was too late. Peter was already reeling from the bullets' impact. Neal instinctively started moving toward him while bullets began to fly in every direction as the agents and Jenson's minions all joined the fray. 

Neal tried to get low, to dodge, to no avail. A white hot pain sliced into the side of head. He saw Peter lying motionless and totally exposed on the tile floor. Neal needed to reach him, keep him safe until Diana and Clinton could get control of the situation. But the pain in his head was escalating and his vision was whiting out around the edges. His legs suddenly ceased to obey his commands, stopping his forward movement and Neal went down heavily several feet away from Peter. 

 

***

 

The first thing Neal registered was a searing pain on the right side of his head. The second thing was the image of Peter on the ground, unmoving. Panic swept through him. He had to get to his partner. Peter was a sitting duck lying on the floor in the middle of office. 

Neal tried to move, to get up so that he could get to Peter. Unexpectedly there were hands on his body holding him down and muffled voices ringing in his ears. Jenson and his groupies. Somehow they had managed to take out Diana, Jones and the rest of the agents.

Neal redoubled his efforts, but his limbs felt inordinately heavy, his muscles uncoordinated and rubbery. He tried to push away the hands holding him down and sit up but nothing was working the way it should. His mind reeled behind the flaring pain. He couldn’t let Jenson keep him down. He had to help Peter. 

“Peter,” he moaned, his voice sounding as ineffectual in his ears as his struggling body. The voices grew louder and now Neal could hear other sounds in the background as well. There was beeping, loud and frantic like his heart and his head, sounds of things being moved around him squeaking and clanking, and what seemed to Neal incongruously like it might be a overhead loudspeaker. 

Neal realized that his eyes were still closed. He opened them as he attempted one more time to surge out of his captors’ grasp. Apparently he took them by surprise because he was suddenly sitting, his eyes were open and the pain in his head went from unbearable to incalculable as light pierced his eyes. 

“Ahhh,” he cried, slamming his lids shut again, trying to raise his hands up to further shelter his eyes. 

Then there was a brief stabbing pain in his upper arm and something shifted in his body from his chest down to his stomach, the feeling unpleasant and slightly nauseating. He tried to swallow the feeling away to no avail. When his strength abruptly left him he began to fall back, but the hands where there again and this time they were gentle, supporting him, guiding him as he lay flat once again.

 

***

 

The first thing Peter registered when he was wheeled into the treatment area was the increase in the searing pain in his chest as the emergency medical personnel stripped him of his bullet proof vest, shirt and undershirt. 

The emergency room was the site of controlled chaos as another two agents, Jenson and three of his comrades were also currently being treated. The only other person Peter was really concerned with however was in the curtained off cubicle right next to him, Neal.

As the EMTs were wheeling him toward an ambulance at the scene, he had asked Diana for the headcount. He knew that his team had overpowered Jenson and his men, he also knew there had been other injuries, but to whom and how bad he wasn’t sure.

Diana had been vague. She was clearly trying to keep him calm and as untroubled as possible. And when he first asked, she hadn’t mentioned that Neal was hurt. But, the fact that Neal wasn’t walking along beside him, with assurances and snappy quips was a huge red flag. Finally, when pressed Diana admitted that Neal had been grazed by a bullet... to his head and that he was unconscious, but the EMTs didn’t seem concerned. But, Peter sure the hell was. 

Now, he could hear the staff behind the curtain separating him from Neal rattling off numbers and giving instructions to each other as the nurse assigned to him took his vitals. 

“What’s happening with my partner.” He asked, tilting his head toward the curtain.

“He’s being treated now, Agent Burke.”

“Well, that’s obvious,” he huffed. “How is he? Is he going to be alright?”

“I wasn’t assigned to his case, agent, I was assigned to yours.” The nurse replied sternly. She was a petite brunette with a pixie cut. Peter would never have guessed she could pull off that tone.

He held up his hands in surrender and fell back on the bed with a small grunt of pain. 

“An orderly will be here shortly to take you to x-ray,” she informed him as she left his cubicle. 

He nodded in acknowledgement and then returned his attention to the sounds coming from next door. Peter didn’t like what he was hearing. There was a heart monitor beeping away and multiple personnel moving around. As Peter listened, the heart monitor began to speed up. The other voices became more urgent. Peter heard someone speaking to Neal, asking him to relax, assuring him that he was in the hospital and that he was safe.

But, the heart monitor only began to beep even faster and then Peter heard a heartbreaking moan “Peter.”

Peter sat up quickly, intent on getting to his partner. The pain in his chest escalated and his breathing hitched. As he took a moment to let the ache in his chest settle, Peter heard Neal cry out in pain. 

Peter was off his gurney and through the curtain that separated him from Neal in a flat second. 

Neal was sitting up straight on his gurney, his eyes tightly shut, a pressure bandage taped to the side of his head. Peter could see that it was spotted with Neal’s blood.

“Neal,” Peter called out to the younger man as someone slid a needle into Neal’s upper arm. Peter pushed his way past a doctor in a lab coat and took Neal’s hand from where he seemed to be trying to shield his eyes from the bright overhead lights. His partner looked like hell. His face was pale and etched with pain and worry. He looked so very fragile, like the bone china that his mother kept in the breakfront in their dining room that she insisted Peter never touch when he was a kid. 

Whatever drug Neal had been given was working quickly. Neal’s shoulders slumped as the tension drained from his body, the heart monitor began to slow slightly and then Neal started to fall back onto the gurney.

Peter got his other arm behind his partner’s back and supported Neal’s body as he sank down. “I’m here buddy. Everything’s going to be okay.” Peter soothed. 

Neal’s breathing was slowing, the beep of the heart monitor dropping to a more normal pace. 

Peter’s hand was on Neal’s head now, brushing through his hair on his uninjured side. “You’re okay, you’re okay.” 

“Peter?” Neal’s voice was breathy and weak.

“Yeah, buddy I’m here.” 

Neal’s eyes were still tightly shut. “Neal, open your eyes,” Peter encouraged. 

It seemed like a tremendous struggle, but Neal managed to slit open his eyes. “Peter, you’re hurt.” It was clearly a statement, not a question. 

Peter smiled down at Neal reassuringly. “Nah, I’m fine. Not even a scratch.”

“I saw you get shot,” Neal slurred.

“I was wearing my vest, buddy. I’m okay.”

Neal sighed deeply, clearly relieved to see Peter whole. “I saw you get hit. I saw you fall. I was afraid...”

“Shhh, it’s okay. Just rest now. The docs gonna take care of your head okay?”

“Mmmmm.’ Neal murmured as his eyes slid shut again.

Peter let go of Neal’s hand and removed his other hand from Neal’s head preparing to move aside to let the medical staff work.

“Peter, don’t go.” Neal begged.

“I’m not leaving.” Peter put his hand back down on Neal’s forehead briefly. “We need to give the doctor room to work. I’ll be right outside, I promise.”

 

***

 

The first thing Neal registered was the sound of gentle snoring. The second thing was the smooth, slender hand wrapped around his own. The third was the throbbing pain in his head and an ache that seemed to permeate his whole body.

He shifted slightly on the bed trying to find a more comfortable position.

“Hey, sweetie, are you finally waking up for us?” Elizabeth asked, her voice as smooth and soft as the hand holding his.

He sighed. It was the best response he was capable of at the moment. 

Elizabeth gave his hand a gentle squeeze and then her hand left his. Neal felt bereft from it’s loss as he listened to El get up from where she must have been sitting beside his bed.

“Peter, Neal’s waking up.” 

The snoring concluded with a grunt. “What?”

“Neal’s waking up,” she repeated. Neal could hear the smile in her voice. 

“I’m going to go find some coffee and give you boys a minute,” she continued. 

“Thanks, hon.” 

There was some shifting and shuffling and then a warm hand descended onto Neal’s forehead.

“Hey, buddy you with us?” Peter asked him.

Neal sighed again, hoping that Peter would take it for a positive response. 

“Good, that’s good. Can you open your eyes?”

Neal took a moment to think about it, and then shifted his head left to right ever so slightly. He didn’t want to open his eyes. His head already hurt and he was absolutely certain that opening his eyes would only make the situation worse.

“Come on Neal,” Peter goaded. “Let’s see those baby blues.”

Neal sighed again, this time hoping to convey his reluctance.

“You can be obstinate some other time, open them up.”

As much as he hated it Neal was pretty good at following orders, at least when they came from Peter, so he complied and slowly cracked his eyes open.

He was right about the light, it was too bright, making his eyes water and sting and the pain in his head worsen. He grumbled in protest.

“Hey, there you are. You’ve been out for quite a while.” Peter sounded a little worried. 

“Sorry.” Neal said, frowning. Neal didn’t like the idea that he had made Peter and Elizabeth worry about him. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You needed the rest.” Peter soothed. 

“Still tired,” Neal stated. “And, my head hurts.”

“Do you remember what happened?” Peter asked carefully.

Neal remembered. The image of Peter falling to the ground after taking two bullets to the chest would be forever burned in his brain.

He swallowed hard looking away from his partner. “Yeah.”

Peter ran his hand through Neal’s hair. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine, nothing more than some bruising, you’ll be fine in a couple of days, and no one else was seriously hurt.”

“Jones, Diana?”

“Completely unscathed.”

Neal nodded, knowing that Peter needed to believe that he was okay. But he wasn’t. And, it would be a long time before he was. What had happened was his fault. He had read Jenson wrong and everything had gone to hell in a handbasket because he had misjudged the man and the situation. 

“Neal, you do know that none of this was your fault, right? Peter’s voice was serious and reassuring in equal measure.

Neal couldn't respond. He didn’t want to outright lie to Peter, but he couldn’t be honest with him either. 

Peter waited looking down at Neal as if he could read exactly how and what Neal was feeling.

“Neal?”

“I completely misread Jenson,” Neal confessed. “I thought he was your typical, greedy-to-the-core corporate user, not a psychotic wingnut. I put everyone’s lives in jeopardy because I couldn’t read this guy. I’m a con artist. My best skill is reading people. And, I failed utterly.”

“I hate to break it to you champ, but this had nothing to do with you. If anyone here failed it was the AUSA and me.” 

Neal started to protest, but Peter stopped him with a withering look. “You never should have gone back in after we hacked their computer files. It was too risky. It was my call and it was a bad one.”

Neal sighed again and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever really. 

“Neal?” Peter sounded worried again. 

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Peter please?” Neal knew he was whining, but he didn’t care. He really was tired and his head hurt too much for him to think clearly. He just wanted to go back to sleep for a week, maybe two.

Peter’s fingers were running through his hair again and his hand was a reassuring weight on Neal’s aching head. 

“You’re worried that in choosing to be a man, you’re losing the skills the con honed over all those years.” Peter always could read Neal. Maybe that was why Neal never lied to him. Deep down Neal knew he could never get away with it.

Neal nodded slightly, being careful not to dislodge Peter’s comforting hand.

“Well stop it,” Peter chided. “I’ll take the flawed man over the perfect con any day.”

Peter leaned forward; Neal could feel his closeness. Peter’s voice was filled with conviction as he whispered, “You’re a good friend Neal Caffrey and a good man. And, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
